Kurzgeschichten
by collineesh
Summary: Short stories focused on HavocxFuery. Warnings for MxM and language. I do not own or claim to own Full Metal Alchemist. I am not profiting from this work of fiction. 100 word challenge
1. Beginnings

(A/N: Hello, welcome to my first (posted to this site) fanfiction! Sadly, I cannot quite call it 'fanfiction' is it is a series of drabbles. They will be mostly unrelated, and as the summary warned, will vary in many ways. I am open to constructive criticism and friendly reviews. Enjoy!)

1 Beginnings

They all had reasons for joining. Some were more selfish than others.

The ambitious of course joined for the power that the stripes on the uniform brought them. The command of countless men in the strongest army Amestris had seen in centuries. The respect of adoring citizens.

The brave joined to protect their home. Since the start of the Eastern Rebellion, no one felt safe and that was why these soldiers enlisted. To bring about a sense of security to loved ones. Or perhaps even to watch over loved ones already enlisted.

Kain Fuery wasn't sure why he enlisted. Growing up, he knew he was far from the heroes depicted in the war stories. He wasn't tall, muscular, an alchemist, or even a smidgen tolerant of violence. He much preferred the company of critters and books to contact sports. He wore large glasses, was prone to tripping and had less backbone than a tapeworm.

Despite these glaring drawbacks, Fuery enlisted. He became a technician and eventually found himself under the command of Colonel Mustang and in the company of four very likable people. Work was far more akin to a playground than a military office.

Perhaps it was because of this lack of formality that caused the accident. Perhaps it was only the cloud of bad luck that was always just over his shoulder. Either way, it seemed Fuery would not have been able to avoid such an occurrence.

It was the dead of winter, and only the third week of Fuery's entry to Mustang's company. His shift had just ended and Fuery was relieved to be headed back to his dorm. Too relieved, maybe, because while he was contemplating the falling snow, his boot met ice. His reflexes had always been a little slow when it counted, too. He flailed his arms in an attempt to regain balance, but was too far gone.

Before he could hit the pavement, however, a strong grip encircled his wrist and yanked him back up.

" 's slippery, kid," was all he got from his savior. Fuery watched the retreating back of Second Lieutenant Havoc.

"T-thank you!" he called. Havoc waved an acknowledging hand but did not turn around.

Now, as it may seem, this was not the aforementioned accident. No, the accident was what occurred the following day in the office.

Determined to properly thank the blond-haired man, Fuery headed into work early.

"Lieutenant! May I speak with you?" Fuery called upon spotting his target. Havoc meandered over to the technician. He motioned for Fuery to continue. "A-about yesterday. I wanted to …to thank you. For what you uhm did…" Half way into his speech (which was prerehearsed, mind you), Fuery noticed the intensity of Havoc's gaze upon him. Havoc didn't seem to actually be listening to him. But was rather focused on his face.

"Yeah, hold on a second," Havoc leaned forward and squinted a bit. Then he reached up and pulled something from Fuery's face. "You had dog hair stuck in your glasses."

Fuery's entire face flushed. How the _hell_ did dog hair get _there_?

"Anyways, go on."

"N-never mind. Not important." Fuery scampered away. He planned on actively avoiding his superior for the rest of the day. And the week. And for the rest of his life, if he could.

Unfortunately for Fuery, Havoc liked to pop up on him to play his favorite game: Pick The Animal Hair Off Of Fuery. It became almost routine for them. An inside joke. Something intimate that they shared in the office. At first it was embarrassing. Fuery didn't want the others to think he was not well-groomed. He just happened to have a lot of smuggled strays in his dorm. But the days that Fuery came in clean were the days that Havoc did not talk to him as often. To the Lieutenant, it was an important part of their relationship that without it was just not as fun.

Yes, everyone had their reason for joining. Even Kain Fuery, whom thought he had no special reason. You see, Kain Fuery joined in hopes he would someday be important to somebody else.


	2. Middles

2 Middles

"What are you doing, Sir?" Fuery cocked his head in confusion. A trait some would guess he picked up from the numerous strays he kept.

Havoc raised an eyebrow, unaware that his lunch had been observed. "I happen to be eating a bologna sandwich."

"Yessir, but what are you doing to your sandwich?"

"I am pealing the crust off. Would you like it?" Havoc never knew with this kid. Maybe he wanted the crusts for birds or something.

"Yessir, but why?"

"Drop the formalities, Kain. I just like the middle."

"Yessi-….uhm. I see. In that case, can I have them? You see, I found a bird on the side of the road yester—"

Havoc rolled his eyes. Of course he did. Havoc pushed the crusts across the table and chuckled into his sandwich when Fuery pulled out a bag already holding the crusts taken from several other soldier's lunches.


	3. Ends

(A/N: The book that is refereed to is _A Wild Sheep Chase_ by Murakami. While I thought it was a fantastic novel, at times I confess I did feel a bit like poor Havoc....)

3 Ends

Havoc burst into the office. Lunch had ended almost an hour earlier, but the Lieutenant gave no excuse for his absence. Instead, he marched over to Fuery's desk and slammed a worn paperback onto the wooden surface.

"Never a-fucking-gain will I read a book you lend me," he raved. Fuery slid the book towards him. He noticed with a pout that it was slightly more battered than when he had last seen it a few weeks ago.

"What's wrong with it?" Fuery asked, "I think Murakami is a great author."

"Are you nuts? It made no sense! The damn sheep wasn't even a sheep. And his girl just ran off? I mean, it didn't even have an actual ending! I kept reading, just hoping that I wasn't wasting my time and that the plot would pick the hell up. But main character, oh by the way, I have to call him "Main Character" because he never gave himself a fucking _name_, just proved me wrong and did nothing but whine and get wasted, hardly realistic. Never again, Kain." The irony in his last few sentences went mainly unnoticed.

Fuery blinked owlishly up at him. "I thought the main character resembled you."

"Are you implying that I can't get women, get wasted, complain and go on useless missions about the country just because someone tells me to?"

"Well, I suppose that fits the description as well, but I was thinking about his dedication to his friends." Kain pushed the book into his desk drawer and set back to his paperwork.

"......I still think it was a stupid ending." Havoc trudged out of the room, uncaring that his own paperwork was slowly growing.


	4. First

4 Firsts

Havoc had been his first.

Well, not _first_ first. But his first with another guy. First simply because he never gave the option much thought. Fuery had always assumed he would grow old with a yard of grandchildren and a million dogs.

It was okay, though, he thought idly, watching Havoc's chest rise and fall gently in the early morning sunlight. If this was the sight he was greeted by every morning, it didn't matter if he was not as straight as he previously thought. Gay or not, he could still have a million dogs. And maybe some cats too, because there would likely be no grandchildren.


	5. Last

(A/N: Decided to try dialogue only....Sorry these are so short!)

5 Last

"Are you ready to go yet? It's late…everyone has gone…."

"Almost. Hawkeye gave me so much freaking paperwork today!"

"Would you like help?"

"Why? What do you want from me?"

"I want to go home already, Havoc."


	6. Minutes

6 Minutes

Master Sergeant Fuery had a dilemma. Said dilemma was standing in his doorway, cigarette dangling from his lips. On any other occasion, Fuery would have been ecstatic to find the Second Lieutenant in his dorm, but this was not any other occasion. Fuery happened to have a towel around his neck, soap in hand and a change of pajamas over his shoulder. That and an illegal guest already making himself at home.

"Hey there, kiddo. Mind if I come in?" Havoc did not wait for an affirmative answer; instead he brushed past the shorter man and stood in the middle of the cluttered room. "Whoa, I've never been in the military dorms. This room is tiny. No wonder you never grow taller."

Fuery chuckled nervously at the jibe. He kept glancing to the corner where a golden puppy lay asleep on his pillow.

"Yeah..uh sir, now isn't the best time for me to have guests...you see-"

"You were about to shower, right? 's fine. I can wait." Havoc still had not noticed the pup, even as he sat on the cot, only an arm's length from it.

He sighed and left the room, shutting the door quietly. Ten minutes was all it would take to get to the dorm bathroom, fight for a shower stall, cleanse and get back. Hopefully ten minutes was not long enough for Havoc to discover his fuzzy ward. Then again, Havoc was far more observant than he often let on. Fuery all but ran to the bathroom. Thankfully, there was only one other occupant of the bathroom and he was brushing his teeth lazily. Fuery jumped into the open shower and began stripping and washing, not bothering to wait for the water to heat properly.

Eight minutes later, the small animal lover was dashing back to his dorm. He grasped the handle and groaned when he found it locked. He had forgotten his key in his surprise at Havoc's appearance. He knocked quietly. Surely it did not matter if he let himself in or if Havoc had to. Either way his pup had been discovered and he would be turned in. Or worse, Havoc had cooked the puppy up in a stew. The rational part of Fuery's mind had conveniently forgotten his dorm did not have a kitchen. Terrified, he knocked again, much harder this time.

On only the third knock, the door was flung open. "I heard you the first time, calm down."

He hurried into the room, glad to see the puppy still asleep on his pillow.

"Thank goodness," he muttered.

"So, you brought in another stray? I don't think Black Hayate will appreciate this," Havoc chided from behind him.

"I'm sorry sir, he was all alone...it's only until I can find him a home. You understand right?"

"Sure sure."

The silence that followed those words was borderline uncomfortable. Fuery was about to say something when the other spoke first.

"You find a home yet? Any ideas?"

"Ahm, no not yet. I only found him this afternoon." Fuery slid his glasses back up the wet bridge of his nose. He dropped his dirty clothes in a basket and sat on the cot, patting the pup gently.

"If you want, I could take him. You know, until you find a place. I'm not in the dorms, so he wouldn't have to be a secret." Havoc sounded proud of having found a solution. Fuery, however, wasn't as excited.

"You don't have to do that. I'm sure I'll find someone soon." And people who mentioned dog-stew weren't allowed to be alone with dogs; not if Fuery could stop it.

"What if I want a dog? I live alone, you know." The lieutenant took the remaining steps to cross the room and scooped up the dog. The other man squeaked. The pup mad a similar noise as its nap was disrupted, but licked the hand that dangled him in the air.

"Be- be careful with him! He's only little!"

"Don't worry, Kain. I got him. Besides, little things tend to like me." He nodded to the puppy that was intent on bathing his fingers before reaching out with his slobber-covered hand to ruffle Fuery's hair. The puppy squirmed in the other hand and yipped happily.


	7. Hours

7 Hours

It had been hours. Three hours in fact, and Jean Havoc was beginning to worry. Of course, he did not let the others see his discomfort, he was a professional. Fortunately, it seemed Hawkeye was worried too.

"Has anyone seen Master Sergeant Fuery?"

"Not for three hours," replied Havoc. Too quick, he panicked. The woman's eyebrow cocked in query.

"Well, the radio isn't going to get fixed with Fuery running amok. Lieutenant Havoc, go and fetch him," Colonel Mustang scowled from behind his desk. He was probably jealous that he himself could not waste hours of time while at work.

Havoc stood and grabbed his jacket that was hanging from the back of his chair. He left the base grounds in a military car, for the sky threatened rain. His observation was affirmed by a rolling boom of thunder.

Twenty minutes later, Havoc pulled up to the train station. Fuery had been sent there to reconnect phone lines that were taken out the previous night by a storm. "They'll probably go out again tonight," he murmured, glancing up at the ominous clouds that were gathering. He stepped into the main office of the station, which was really no more than a desk with a secretary and a fish tank.

"Hello ma'am. I'm here to pick up Master Sergeant Fuery."

"I' m sorry sir, I haven't a clue who you are looking for. Perhaps a description?"

"He's about this tall, wears giant glasses. Short black hair, probably looked terrified. He was supposed to report back two hours ago."

"Oh, him! He left a while ago. I haven't seen him since 1:00. He fixed the phones perfectly." As if to validate her statement, the office phone rang shrilly. She nodded in polite apology before answering.

"Sorry for the trouble." Havoc left the office and lit up. Sucking the smoke into his lungs, he thought of where Fuery could be. Where could he have gone in an hour that was not the base?

The first drops of the storm began to fall as Havoc reentered his car. The engine puttered to life and a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. He began to drive back to the base when he noticed the entrance to the city park not too far from the station. Sighing, he turned the car back off. It was his best bet. People were always leaving boxes of kittens in the park, as cliché as it may have been.

The park was void of life as he stood in the downpour. His cigarette smoldered sadly before he gave up on it and threw it to the ground. As he stubbed it out in the wet dirt, he heard his name being called.

"Lieutenant Havoc! What are you doing here?" Fuery ran to him from under a tree.

"I'm here to drag your sorry ass back to the base. You've been gone for three hours. The colonel wants you back if the phones are fixed."

"I'm sorry you had to come out here for me. But I saw the sky and remembered a stray dog I'd seen yesterday and I had to make sure he wasn't still out here. Thankfully it seems someone has taken him." Fuery replied as they clambered back into the car.

"What are we going to do with you, kid?" Havoc asked sarcastically.

"I'm sorry."

Havoc just glanced at him and pulled onto the road. Fuery was soaked and shivering. Havoc sighed, "Come on, we'll stop at my apartment first. You could use a towel before going back and electrocuting yourself on our radio." Besides, Havoc wasn't sure he wanted to go back to work just yet. A cup of hot coffee while waiting for Fuery's uniform to dry out sounded perfect for such a lazy day.


	8. Horror

8 Horror

"Havoc, please!"

"There're no ghosts here!"

"But…but I heard it weeping last night! I can't go back to my dorm alone. Please!"

"Look, you're a grown man. Pluck up your courage and walk by yourself. My place is in the other direction."

"Couldn't you do _something_?"

"There isn't much I can do to stop a blood-thirsty ghost."

"You-you said there were no ghosts! Havoc! I'm so scared!"

"Fine. I'll talk to the colonel. But if anything bad comes out of this, I'm holding you responsible."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Havoc sighed. Oh the things he would do for Fuery. Now, how could he best get the colonel hooked into a late night rendezvous in the warehouses without attracting the attention of Hawkeye…


	9. Socks

(A/N: The puppy described could be the same as in "Minutes". Maybe they two moved in together shortly after? *shrug*)

9 Socks

"Damnit, Kain!" The door to the kitchen burst open and Havoc stormed in, waving a rag about. "This is the fourth pair of socks your stupid mutt destroyed! Do something about it! I expect punishment!" A mad glint appeared in his eyes.

"That was a sock?" Kain pointed innocently to the rag.

"Yes, damnit!"

As if he knew they were talking about him, a puppy trotted into the room. He shook his head and yipped. Kain squealed in joy and picked the small dog up. It licked his face. "Hah hah, that tickles. You didn't mean to ruin mean-y Jean-y's socks, did'ya boy? You're just teething." Kain's voice rose an octave as he spoke.

"Are you kidding me?! Punishment!"

"I can't yell at him, Jean. He wouldn't understand why I was mad at him. Only discipline when you discover him in the act."

Havoc sighed and tossed his socks into the trash bin. He leaned against the counter and watched Kain finish his coffee. Kain looked upset. He probably shouldn't have lost his temper over a pair of socks. Stupid dog.

"Sorry," he mumbled before hugging Kain from behind.

"Mmm," the younger man sighed contentedly, "s'okay."

Havoc nuzzled the top of his head before kissing the side of his neck. He released Kain and squatted down to pet the puppy that had been pulling at his trousers. "Be glad you're almost as cute as Kain. Or you'd be in my next meal."

"Jean!"


	10. Jacket

10 Jacket

"Havoc? Are you in here?" The door to the central room opened. Fuery glanced around the dark lunch room. The room was empty save for the man in question and the man searching him.

Havoc was sprawled out on the bench of one of the lunch tables. As it was well past midnight, and most of the building clear, he was in no one's way. Fuery checked his watch. They only had twenty minutes until their shifts ended and Havoc had been looking exhausted all day. Instead of waking the other man, however, Fuery drew closer. He removed his uniform jacket and draped it over the larger man. It was kind of cold, after all.

Fuery turned and left the room, whatever had sent him in search of Havoc was no longer important. It wasn't anything that could wait until tomorrow. Fuery headed back to their office to clean up for the night. He planned to come back and collect his jacket and lieutenant, but first he was going to raid the other's desk for cigarettes and discard them. That was the price for twenty minutes of jacket-warmth.


	11. Pen

(A/N: This is based off of the habit I have taken up myself after watching Jean Havoc.)

11 Pen

"Fuery, what do you have in your mouth?"

"Oh! Lieutenant Hawkeye...it's just my pen..." He waved the blue pen at her.

"Well, be sure to do more signing than chewing."

"Yessir, sorry." Fuery continued filling out the paperwork on his desk. Without the pen though, he felt like he was missing something. The comfort the pen brought him was confusing in itself. Only recently had the master sergeant taken up gnawing on small, cylindrical objects. Well, not really _gnawing_, he just kept it between his lips, sometimes his teeth. It was a strange habit.

"Hey, kid. Mind taking some of my papers, since you're almost done and all."

Fuery looked up at the one who had spoken. Blond hair, shocking blue eyes, and a cigarette dangling from pale lips. Oh. That explained it.


	12. Gray

12 Gray

Havoc had been staring at the spider for the past twenty minutes. It was idly crawling across Breda's desk, making its ways towards Fuery's. It didn't _look_ poisonous, so he didn't warn the room of the arachnid's appearance. The spider had eight furry little legs, a fat little body and was covered in tiny gray hairs. The spider finally reached Fuery's desk and darted up the side of his typewriter.

"Hey there little buddy," Fuery's voice rang out above the standard office-din, "You're gonna get hurt on my typewriter!" With that said, Fuery scooped up the spider and scooted toward the open window behind him, deposited the arachnid on the sill and scooted back.

Havoc sighed in discontent and slammed his fist on his desk. "You're not cute at all!" The rest of the officers present glanced up warily. "You're supposed to be cute and girly! You were supposed to see the spider and scream your head off until one of us smashed it with a stack of paper! Damnit!" Havoc then flopped onto his desk, lifeless.

Silence.

"…what?"

It was a known fact that Havoc was crushing on Fuery. Well, to be fair, no one was _supposed_ to know this fact, and honestly, it was debatable whether or not the two concerned parties knew. Regardless, Havoc was crushing on Fuery. His reputation as a flirt would be in danger if anyone found out he liked such an ungirly specimen. Seriously, countless years chasing after girls were something Havoc was not ready to throw down just because a certain spectacled boy crossed his path.

Then again, it was Fuery. Stupid Fuery and his stupid animals. And his stupid politeness. And his stupid glasses. And stupid hair. And stupid personality. And stupid…..face. Of course everything he had to be looking for in a partner had to be found in a guy. Of course.

"Shut up, I love you."


	13. It

90 It

"We can't keep it. It might belong to someone. And it might have fleas. I'm not going to let it sleep in our bed. It has to go. Now."

"B-but..."

"Get it out of here." Arms crossed over a muscular chest and a puff of smoke floated up to the ceiling before being obliterated by the fan.

"Would you stop calling him that?" Fuery had a look of disgust on his face that the Second Lieutenant rarely saw. It was enough to catch him off guard.

"What?"

"'_It_'," Fuery hissed, "he's a boy-dog. Not an 'it'."

"Either way, get it out of the house." Havoc stared down at the pup in Fuery's arms. It was a brown, dirty, ragged, scrawny, ugly thing of a mutt, and Fuery was absolutely in love with it. Him. _Whatever._

"Jean, just for the night? Please?" Havoc sighed. It wasn't often the younger man addressed him so informally. He relented.

"Just the night, and it's er…he's going to stay on the floor."

"Thank you!" Fuery stood on his tiptoes and pecked Havoc on the cheek, careful to avoid the cigarette dangling from the other's lips.


	14. Blind

81 Blind

"Havoc?"  
"Mhmm?"

"Have you seen my glasses?"

"Nope, sorry kiddo."

Fuery sighed and plopped down on the sofa. He began to knead the bridge of his nose with his knuckles.

"You really haven't seen them? I can't believe they're not on the end-table. This is the fifth time this month!"

Fuery slid sideways, placing his head on Havoc's lap and sighing again. He was starting to get a headache. Havoc ruffled the younger soldier's hair while he continued his perusal of the morning paper. Fuery shifted and curled his hands in Havoc's shirt, determined to focus on something close-range to ward off the pounding in his head.

Below his paper, Havoc watched Fuery's expression with carefully suppressed delight. Without his glasses, Fuery had a habit of squinting. Said squinting caused his nose to wrinkle cutely. Thus adding to the adorable that was the technician. His delight had to be masked, however, because Fuery was smart and eventually he would have linked Havoc's good mood with his mysteriously disappearing glasses. Then he would think to check the breadbox that contained Havoc's cigarettes and, for the time being, the black frames.


	15. Blue

(A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to LivelongAMonk and Sonar for the lovely reviews. They seriously make my day brighter! Enjoy chapter 15!)

15 Blue

The twilight air was alight with fire. Bullets whistled overhead and struck the sandbags in front of the young soldier. Around him, yellow grains exploded into the fading light. The sand fell on the bodies of the soldiers around him. Dead or alive.

Blinking the grains out of his chocolate eyes, he reloaded his rifle. A momentary lag in enemy fire gave him a small flood of relief. He peaked over the top of the sandbags and squinted into the darkness. Before him lay the bodies of countless soldiers, and far more enemy corpses.

The sun gave the desert a blue hue. The mountains to the east were navy with a pink background. The blueness gave the battle an even deeper sense of despair and depression. Not only were his comrades falling around him, but the somber tones were beginning to suffocate him.

He ducked back down as the fire resumed. Making sure his rifle was properly loaded, he popped back up and fired without aiming. Basic training be damned, he'd rather shower the enemy with a constant rain of bullet, like they were doing to him. Then again, there were no _they;_ it was just disembodied fire. That made it easier to return fire. The thought that actual human beings were in the other trenches nauseated him. He wasn't a killer. He was just a technician, damnit. A bullet sank into the sandbag directly before him, tearing him from his musings. A dull pain rang from his abdomen.

"Shit." It wasn't often he allowed himself to curse, but the bullet lodged in his side hurt like _hell_. He fell back behind the bags and tore at his uniform. The blue fabric was quickly becoming soaked in red blood. With the blue cloth out of the way, he assessed the damage as though he was looking after a sparrow struck by a car. Luckily it seemed he was only grazed by the projectile, the wound in his side wasn't deep, despite the heavy bleeding. He looked around at his comrades. No one spared him a glance.

They were too preoccupied in their own lives. Desperate to cling to life and avoid the bullets. Each man praying to whatever god he had to bring him home safely. Too focused on the battle at hand to be distracted by the small man with a smaller wound, even if said man was becoming dizzy from the blood loss. Besides, it wasn't like he was more important than the dead around him. If they hadn't stopped for them, they wouldn't stop for him. He stared up at the sky. It was midway between purple and blue. The same shade as the shadows cast by the corpses on the other side of the sandbags. Almost the same color as the uniform torn from his body and stained by blood.

"Medic!" He called weakly, making sure to keep the desert sand out of his wound. He didn't expect anyone to come. He closed his eyes, suddenly hating the color blue and how unfeeling it was. He was awash in a sea of blue uniforms, shadows and the endless sky, but none of them would care enough to throw him a line. To save him from drowning. He kept his eyes closed, trying to forget the sound of gunfire and screams of pain in the blackness.

His sanctuary was destroyed when a hand closed around his bicep and yanked him away from the sandbags.

"Fuery! You alive man? Hold on." He felt himself be dragged over a shoulder and carried away from the sounds of friendly fire. The air was cooler here. Wherever _here_ was. Just as abruptly as he was picked up he was deposited. But it wasn't sand he was put on. It was cloth. A cot maybe. He cracked his eyes open and saw the top of the military-issued tents. Blue. Like everything else in this goddamned country. By the sounds of it, he was in a medic tent. Groans of the wounded surrounded him. He briefly wondered why he was here of all places. Then, a cool cloth brushed over his side and he remembered his wound with a cry of pain.

"Calm down, kid. You're gonna be okay. You got lucky, you sonofabitch." Cigarette smoke filled his nostrils as the one tending his wound leaned closer.

"Havoc?" Their eyes met. Cool blue eyes. Not navy like the night or the military. Light blue like the daytime sky and icy mountain springs. Like snow-cones and the wings of birds. Gazing into Havoc's eyes, his own hazy and unfocused, he decided maybe blue wasn't as bad as he thought. If the color would continue holding so much worry and affection _for him_, he might even learn to love blue.


	16. Blanket

(A/N: So I'll be taking requests. My only requirement is that it is focused on Fuery. It doesn't have to be HavocxFuery. It could be any pairing, or no pairing at all. I'm open to anything. I want to keep writing these short stories, but I feel like I need a bit of a challenge, and I want to know what you guys want to read. :D )

16 Blankets

Rain pattered on the windowpanes. The summer storm passed through the city as a hindrance to most. Traffic was backed up due to hydroplaning vehicles and umbrellas clogged sidewalks. Most cursed the storm. No one wanted to be trudging through the rain. No one wanted soggy socks or wet hair. The cool rain might have been a welcome relief from the summer heat, but humans are often too selfish to appreciate simple things.

For the fortunate few who were not expected to be running amok in the rain, the rain was a blessing. Curled up on the sofa of a scarcely decorated apartment were Jean Havoc and Kain Fuery. One read a book happily, the other blew smoke rings into the stale air. They shared a blanket. A brown, woven throw that had once belonged to Havoc's parents. Somewhere along the line it got packed into his belongings and moved with the lieutenant to Central, where it was destined to bring warmth on rainy days.

Havoc ran his fingers up and down Fuery's arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Fuery shivered and dropped his book to the floor, snuggling closer to the blond for warmth.

"I like rainstorms," said Fuery idly.

"Mmmm," Havoc curled his hand around Fuery's. He smoothed his thumb over the back of the smaller hand.

"It's nice to not have to go to work and just sit around."

"It's quiet."

The other nodded. Havoc pulled the blanket tighter, warding off the cold brought from the rain. He resumed the lazy circles on Fuery's hand. Fuery rested his head on Havoc's shoulder. The rain pattering on the roof lulled them into a hazy doze. Neither were truly awake or asleep. They simply enjoyed the warmth of each other and the hush of the storm.


	17. Radio

(A/N: This is unnecessarily cheesy. I'm sorry.)

17 Radio

It was early. The sun was just peaking over the horizon. Dew still bathed the grass in shimmering diamonds. Most of East City was still asleep, warm in their beds, dreaming of far off places. Windows were dark and houses were quiet.

Well, most houses anyway. From one particular apartment came the static hum of a radio. Classical music floated from the open window into the dawn. Into one particular apartment which was located just across the lane from the open window had one of its own thrown open. The soft morning breeze wafted the music into the darkened bedroom, bringing with it the smell of spring flowers and the sound of strings. It was a slow ballad; the chorus of dozens of violins, cellos, violas, and basses each melting together to bring forth a brilliant sound.

"Who the _hell _has their radio on this early?" Havoc growled, rolling over in bed and burrowing his head under a pillow. Now Havoc wasn't particularly against music. In fact, he loved music. Dancing was a favorite pastime of his. Havoc was not a morning person, however. Sleeping in as long as possible was one of his daily goals, despite the repercussions is sometimes caused.

Beside him, Fuery slept on; the music lulling him into a deeper sleep. He smiled unconsciously and moved closer to Havoc. His head rested on Havoc's bare back and his fists curled into the cloth of his pants. Havoc lifted his head and rolled back over, jostling Fuery awake.

"Wha—" the smaller man's complaint was silenced by a morning kiss. Sweet and gentle.

"If you don't want to be woken up, don't try to molest me," Havoc teased when they parted.

"But I—" He was kissed again.

"Be quiet. No talking this early." Havoc pushed Fuery onto his back and straddled his hips. He rested his arms on either side of Fuery's head, settling his weight gently on the smaller man. He brought their lips together again, brushing fingers through dark hair. There was no rush, no hasty passion, just a lazy, morning kiss. They parted again, to catch their breaths before meeting again. This time, Havoc nudged soft lips apart with his tongue. Fuery's met his in a loving caress, running his fingertips along Havoc's ribs.

Around them, the music swelled in the darkness. Their lips moved in time with the sound of the strings; a perfect synchronization of music and love.


	18. Key

(A/N: Whoooaaa sorry for the delay. Been busy with driving school and stuff. So this is a request by LongLiveAMonk. Sort of. I kinda bent the request a bit, I hope yo still like it! Thanks for everyone who reviewed!)

19 Key

Fuery sighed as he stared into the store's window. The shop was full of organized aisles and appealing merchandise. Unfortunately, none of it was appealing enough for the technician. It would be their one month anniversary and Fuery wanted to get Havoc something special.

He didn't see himself as particularly romantic or sweet, but he thought it would be a nice gesture. Being with Havoc completely turned his life around. Fuery was able to have more confidence in himself and his work. No longer was he worried about what other people thought of him, because he would always have Havoc to kiss it better. Or at least Fuery hoped he would always have Havoc.

The short man pushed the door open and finally stepped into the shop. He began wandering up and down the aisles, searching for something Havoc might like. Being with Havoc did give him more confidence, but that didn't mean he still didn't worry. He wanted to buy Havoc something nice, but he was worried that Havoc wouldn't understand. Maybe Fuery was reading too far into their relationship. It was only a month, after all. Only thirty days. Half of which they didn't see each other due to work. The other half was spent together, but Fuery had to admit that not much talking went between the two. Havoc was more of a _physical_ being.

Twenty minutes later, Fuery exited the store. He had no present and was more upset than before he entered. He spent his time wandering the aisles, wondering if he was just a convenience to Havoc or if they were more...special than that. Fuery was so intent on watching the sidewalk beneath his feet, he didn't see when a tall young man exited a shop right in front of him. They collided with a dull thump, and the item the taller man had been carrying clattered to the ground.

"God, I'm sorry!" Fuery bent to fetch the item; a small bronze key.

"Kain?"

Fuery's head shot up just as his hand closed around the key. "Havoc? What are you doing here?"

"I, uhm," Havoc suddenly looked nervous, "Just getting a key copied."

"Oh, here you go," Fuery held the key out, smiling up at Havoc.

"Actually, I wanted you to keep it. This isn't exactly they way I wanted you to find out, but I guess it works alright." Havoc pushed the key back into Fuery's palm.

"You want me to keep it?" Fuery stared at the small metal object. He had an inkling where this was going, but refused to get his hopes up too high. Maybe it was just to a room at work. Maybe Mustang had all the locks changed again. The paranoid bastard was prone to changing them without telling anyone.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you'd move in with me? I mean, I understand if you don't. We haven't been together for long but--" Fuery dove forward, throwing his arms around Havoc's waist. He clutched the key tightly in his hand.

"I'll move in with you, Jean."

Havoc ruffled his hair, "Happy One-Month."

"And here I thought you didn't care about anniversaries."

"I care about everything if it's related to you, little one."


	19. Teammates

((Apparently I can only write when a huge storm passes through the Tri-State area. o___o;; I'm sorry it's taken so long for this update!! This one is for Avenasoblivion!! Thank you for the request and the review!))

20 Teammates

Havoc and Fuery always split up chores. With both of them working under the slave-driver, Mustang, it would have been impossible for either of them to be solely responsible.

Fuery's jobs ranged from washing dishes to washing the dog. Most menial were done by him simply because he didn't trust Havoc enough. Havoc had a knack of being too rough with their dishes and his dinners were almost always burned.

Fuery cooked, by the way. As previously stated, Havoc burned almost everything he put on the stove-top. He wasn't a very bad cook, he was must easily distracted. As with his other chores, he liked to take breaks and smoke on the porch. Fuery didn't want to add cleaning up ashes from a destroyed kitchen to his list of tasks.

Havoc's chores were more on the physical side; when something broke (minus electronics—they were Fuery's specialty), he fixed it. Havoc also did the household cleaning. His long limbs gave him the advantage when it came to reaching the top of the bookshelf or the ceiling-fan blades.

Longer limbs would have been nice, Fuery decided, sighing in despair. The small technician stood in the kitchen, staring up into the cabinet where a can of peas stood on the highest shelf, mocking him. Brows furrowed in apparent frustration, Fuery scooted a chair from the dining room over to the cabinet. He climbed up and raised himself onto his tip-toes. The can was still just out of reach. "Damnit," he growled.

"Here," a very toned arm reached around Fuery's body and plucked the stupid can from the shelf. Fuery turned around to find Havoc very close to him. "You can ask for help, you know."

Fuery pouted and took the can from the blond, rolling it in his hands. "Yeah, I know, but you were outside."

"It's getting ready to rain; I came in." Havoc stepped back and watched Fuery hop off the chair and carry it back to its place at the table.

"Did you get the dog inside?"

"Yup. He's on the couch, dragging mud everywhere."

Fuery sighed. He'd be the one cleaning that up later. Havoc reached behind him and clicked on the stove before searching for a can-opener and a pot. Fuery already had some sort of meat-something roasting in the oven. Havoc didn't bother to ask what it was; he knew it would be delicious no matter what. Fuery took over at the stove, emptying the stupid peas into the pot and stirring them slowly with a spoon, waiting for the butter he had added to melt.

"I wanna help," Havoc announced. He slid up behind Fuery and wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist. He then rested his chin on Fuery's head and sighed contentedly. "I like cooking."

Fuery rolled his eyes but leaned back into Havoc's embrace. They may have separate chores, but they were always happiest when they worked together.


	20. Smell

((A/N: Guhh late. I'm sorry. ;___; Reviews are very nice, btw!))

21 Smell

Their office had a distinct smell. Like paper and ink, starch and polish, and cigarette smoke. The former smells were expected. Why would an office not have paper or pens? Or why would a bunch of soldiers go without shiny boots or with wrinkled uniforms? The last smell, however, was distinctly unique to their office. Despite a _rule_ or something that said they could not smoke indoors, one of the soldiers always managed to get his smoke in.

Second Lieutenant Havoc needed his nicotine fix. He came into work with a cancer-stick dangling from his lips, went on city calls with his cigarette, and left work puffing on a butt. It was even rumored that he slept smoking. Obviously, there are some exaggerations when it came to rumors—who had that kind of money to smoke all day _and _night? Havoc must be getting paid a lot, I mean…_damn_.

At first, they had all complained. No one wanted to sit smelling smoke all day. It was bad enough that Mustang always had a faint smell of cinders, and that Breda always smelled like whatever was on the menu in the canteen that day.

Eventually, though, they learned to live with it. It was just another one of those quirks that had to be dealt with.

"Seriously, does it bother you?" Havoc asked. He and Master Sergeant Fury were sitting across from each other in the canteen. "My smoking. I mean, Hawkeye has been dropping hints lately that she wants me to stop. I'm a bit concerned that my blood might stain the carpeting soon."

"Well, of course I want you to quit. It's really unhealthy." Kain took a sip of water, "But really, I don't notice it anymore. It's just a part of who you are. I accept all parts of you, good or bad."

Havoc grinned, "Wish I could say the same about you."

"What do you mean?" Kain pouted.

"I mean, you don't _have_ bad parts."


End file.
